


Compliment Your Soul

by thesnicken



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, courf being a fool, idk i wrote this ages ago i can barely remember what happens in it, kissing and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnicken/pseuds/thesnicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac sat in his bed glancing over to his right where Combeferre lay sleeping and very much naked.</p><p>The night they had just shared had long overdue. Courfeyrac wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened. One minute they’d been discussing unsolved murder cases they had read about on Wikipedia, the next they were tearing each other’s clothes off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compliment Your Soul

Courfeyrac sat in his bed glancing over to his right where Combeferre lay sleeping and very much naked.

The night they had just shared had long overdue. Courfeyrac wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened. One minute they’d been discussing unsolved murder cases they had read about on Wikipedia, the next they were tearing each other’s clothes off.

It had been perfect, for a second, and Courfeyrac longed to repeat the experience. But he knew how it went. Combeferre would wake up soon and Courfeyrac would smile at him for a moment until the sleepy realisation began to creep into Combeferre’s eyes, the realisation that he had fucked up and was now in a position that had been pleasurable and now threatened a friendship.

Courfeyrac had done this far too many times. He made friends, enjoyed their company, fancied himself in love with them, he slept with them, they left him. That was it. Courfeyrac knew he wasn’t an easy person to love. He was “too much.” Yet he let himself fall into this trap over and over. It was agonisingly beautiful when it was happening and agonisingly painful when it was over.

He had done this with Marius, Jehan, Cosette. In these three cases, he had eventually managed to re-achieve a level of friendship, but this was _Combeferre._ Courfeyrac didn’t think he could ever come close to being friends with him again and even if he could, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Courfeyrac heard mumbling coming from the man beside him and recognised the noises coming from Combeferre as the ones he always made before waking up.

As Combeferre rolled onto his back and blinked rapidly, Courfeyrac automatically stretched his hand to the bedside table and picked up Combeferre’s glasses, handing them to him in uncharacteristic silence.

“Thank you,” Combeferre murmured in a tired yet cheery way that made Courfeyrac uneasy.

Courfeyrac know all there was to know about Combeferre. He knew his mother’s maiden name, he knew his medical history, he knew that Combeferre threw up when he drank milk, not because he was lactose intolerant, but because his grandparents owned a dairy farm and used to make him drink the untreated milk, he knew that it always took Combeferre at least sixteen seconds after waking up before he remembered what had happened the night before.

Ten seconds had passed and Combeferre was beginning to take in his surroundings.

“Why am I naked in your bed?” He asked, groggily.

He scratched his forehead and then let out a silent “oh.”

They sat in silence for a moment that seemed like a millennia as Courfeyrac stiffened and Combeferre’s eyes wandered as the memories of last night came seeping back to him.

“Why are you so terrified?” Combeferre asked with the corners of his mouth turning up in the type of slight smile that made Courfeyrac’s heart to swoop down to the pit of his stomach. “Courf, you look like you think I’m about to storm out of here and never so much as look at you ever again.”

“You might,” Courfeyrac sighed. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Combeferre gazed at him in a manner that begged for eye contact. Courfeyrac was still lying on his back and staring at his door, wondering how fast he could run out of it.

He heard the distinctive sound of Combeferre ruffling his hair and Courfeyrac looked up at him.

He had always found it odd that most people obsesses over Enjolras’ blond hair and prominent cheekbones when Combeferre was clearly the most beautiful of the three of them. But then again, most people hadn’t seen Combeferre in his natural state. Very few ever got the chance to look beyond his jumpers aimed at sixty year old men and checked shirts.

Underneath his clothing, he was more than Enjolras could ever be and Courfeyrac thought while watching his torso that if Enjolras was Apollo, then Combeferre was Poseidon.

Combeferre had broad shoulders and his body was toned. Up his arms and across his chest, tattoo’s which few knew existed, crawled softly, complimenting his dark skin tone. His hair was usually kept neat and brushed back but now, it had been pushed to one side by his pillow. It shone golden in the sunbeams which burst through the curtains and cascaded over his forehead like waves. Behind his boxy glasses were eyes made of melted chocolate infused with gold. Sleep was gathered in the corners of his eyes which Combeferre absentmindedly rubbed away.

“We should talk,” said Combeferre, a slight heaviness creeping into his tone.

That was it. That was how it always started. “We should talk” were the words they all said before he was thrown out of their door. Courfeyrac bowed his head and began to pull at a loose string on his blanket.

“God, Courfeyrac. Please stop looking like a kicked puppy, I can’t talk to you seriously when you look so adorable.”

Courfeyrac still refused to look him in the eye and therefore never saw the frustration on Combeferre’s face before he sucked in air through his teeth and lay down on the bed, pulling Courfeyrac’s arm so he was forced down next to him.

“Do you regret this?” He asked Courfeyrac while taking his hand and stroking it with his thumb.

“I don’t know,” answered Courfeyrac, truthfully.

“I think you want to regret it, but a large part of you can’t.”

Damn Combeferre and his freakish ability to tell you exactly what you’re thinking even when you don’t know yourself.

“Okay, stop psychoanalysing me and tell me how _you_ feel.”

Combeferre blushed and leaned his forehead against Courfeyrac’s.

“I feel like I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”

“And now you’ve got it and you’ve realised that it wasn’t really worth the wait?” Courfeyrac said.

“Is that what you feel?” Combeferre asked, is eyes suddenly darkening with fear.

“No! No of course not! I’m just saying it would make sense if that’s what you feel.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what I feel!” Cried Combeferre. “Now be quiet and let me tell you how I feel without interrupting.”

Courfeyrac did as he was told and listened.

“We’ve been friends for twenty years, Courfeyrac. I want to be with you for much longer than that.”

Some part of Courfeyrac that wasn’t completely consumed by his words picked up on the prickling of Combeferre’s fingertips trailing down his spine.

“I want to be with you, forever basically, but like, not as a friend.”

Combeferre’s face darkened with blush. It was sickeningly adorable.

They lay there, blushing and avoiding eye contact, failing miserably at trying to hide their grins, until Courfeyrac thought _screw it_ and he kissed Combeferre.

After the desperate need for the feel of skin the night before, the simplicity of the kiss was blissfully comforting.

Their tongues slipped together sloppily as they slowly entwined themselves in each other. Combeferre’s arms wrapped around Courfeyrac who clung at Combeferre’s bicep.

He had always wanted this, but he had also deeply feared that kissing Combeferre would feel vaguely like incest. There had been no need for him to worry. Kissing him was like waking up and actually looking forward to the day ahead for once.

“I love you,” Combeferre sighed against his lips.

They had said “I love you” to each other before, but the context was quite clearly highly different now.

Courfeyrac felt the familiar feeling of falling into a trap he had made himself. But as he had always done, he ignored it and did exactly what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it.

“I love you too,” he whispered before allowing himself to be completely enveloped in Combeferre’s arms while wondering why he had ever been so afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> the name of this fic is a song by Dan Croll cause aparently i can't think of any way to title anything other than using a song


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